


Differing Appetites

by tansybells



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Human/Monster Romance, Monstertober 2k20, Romance, Werewolf Ingrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: She’s followed this path a hundred times, if not more, and never before has she encountered such a menace as those whispered about in the dark corners of taverns and posted on the board in the center square.She has no doubt in her mind that today will be just the same as always. Yet as always, fate has never appreciated such temptation.Dorothea sets the scene, but Ingrid forgets her line.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Differing Appetites

_A beautiful young woman, seductive in her innocence, wanders through the mist-filled woods as though walking in a dream. A heavy cloak of deepest scarlet swirls about her knees; the contents of the basket that hangs in the crook of her elbow fills the air around her with the sweet scent of pastries and other baked delights._

_She cannot linger long in the woods. She knows this to be true, as everyone knows of the creatures that lurk within the oppressive darkness. Long snouts, sharp teeth, great claws—wolves stalk anyone foolish enough to enter their territory. But the woman doesn’t consider herself to be among those fools. She’s followed this path a hundred times, if not more, and never before has she encountered such a menace as those whispered about in the dark corners of taverns and posted on the board in the center square._

_She has no doubt in her mind that today will be just the same as always. Yet as always, fate has never appreciated such temptation._

_A twig snaps behind her. The woman looks over her shoulder, worried, but there is nothing there to be seen. Once again, behind her, comes the sound of rustling leaves. Her breath hitching in her throat, the woman spins around to investigate closer, and once again, there is nothing._

_Her heartbeat quickens. The woman hurries along her path, glancing behind her every so often to assure herself that there is nothing pursuing her._

_But then—horror upon horrors!—she hears a growl from up ahead, further along the path. Gasping in terror, she clutches the collar of her cloak tight to her neck and looks about for her options. The path before her is the obvious choice—or at least, it would have been, if not for the ominous growls. Slowly, fearfully, she looks to her only other option._

_Off the path._

_She hears the growl again. It’s louder this time, more menacing, and terror sets her blood on fire._

_She doesn’t stop to think. Off the path she runs._

_As she crashes through the underbrush, unaware of her eventual destination, the hood of her cloak falls off of her head and chestnut curls fly out behind her. Her pursuer howls in the distance, and the woman whips around to see how close they are._

_But her caution is her downfall, for as she looks behind her, the heel of her shoe catches on a lifted tree root. She shouts in panic as she finds herself falling through the air, and she lands squarely on her bottom. The thick layer of dead, fallen foliage on the forest floor is a poor cushion, but the woman is too scared to be upset about that._

_The sounds created by the monster chasing her become louder and louder. The woman holds back a scream of terror as she hears a loud, snuffling sound, like it’s pinning down her scent. Leaves and twigs crack beneath the weight of its paws; unable to rise from the ground, the woman scrambles along the forest floor until her back hits the trunk of another tree._

_She freezes at the sudden impact, gasping as the truth of her situation dawns upon her. She looks around frantically for an escape route. There’s nothing to be found._

_Then, like an inescapable nightmare, she hears a low, formidable growl from before her. Her lungs no longer obey her as she tries to breathe. From between the trees, deep, emerald-green eyes stare out at her. A giant paw, half the size of the woman’s face, falls out into the clearing. Soon, the rest of the beast follows, and the woman is rewarded for her fear with the horrifying sight of a giant wolf._

_Nearly the size of a small bear, the wolf shakes out fur that shines gold even in the evening light. It fiercely snarls at her, like she’s somehow insulted it by running away as desperately as she has. A dreadful tremor runs through her at the sight of its bared teeth. Yet before she even has the chance to scream, the wolf leaps forward and slams its fore-paws down on either side of the woman._

_“How dare you come into_ my _woods,” the wolf growls, the low rumble sending a chill down the woman’s spine. Who could have expected a wolf to talk?_

_“I—I only meant to visit my grandmother,” the woman stammers out. “I brought her some food, and—” she looks to the side, where her basket must have fallen when she landed on the ground. The treats and sandwiches that she’d packed have all spilled out onto the ground in a messy array of bread and fruit and cheese. “Please, don’t hurt me! Take the food, if you must, but I just want to see her!”_

_The wolf growls again, and in a clear show of dominance, sets its heavy paw down on the woman’s chest. “I have no need for such paltry gifts,” it says—_ she _says, now that the woman can detect a feminine tone to her voice—and presses down slightly on her chest. “I don’t need food, or bribes, or anything so mundane.”_

_“Then what do you—” The woman gasps in pain, or shock, or anticipation—she can’t tell—as the wolf leans in. She can smell the rot of flesh on its breath, can feel the warmth of its words on her cheek. She stills beneath the wolf, only now becoming fully aware of just how prone and… available she is beneath the great creature._

_“Since you were so desperate to enter my territory,” the wolf rumbles, “I think I might as well keep you here.” The woman stiffens and averts her gaze, the heat of her embarrassment at the lewdness of the wolf’s suggestion warming her cheeks. “Make you… mine.”_

* * *

Ingrid pushes herself off of Dorothea, a frown evident in her expression despite her canine features. “Make you mine? Why would I want to do that? Aren’t you already my girlfriend?”

“Shh,” Dorothea hushes her, smiling from ear to ear as she places a slender finger on Ingrid’s muzzle. “I’m setting the scene, darling.”

* * *

_“No, no, please, no!” the poor, beautiful maiden pleads from beneath the wolf. “I couldn’t possibly—not with a great beast like you! I promise, if you’ll only let me go—”_

_“You’re in no position to make promises.” Without warning, the wolf leans in and grasps the ties of the woman’s cloak in its jaws. The woman struggles to ignore the way her skin prickles as the wolf tugs gently, undoing the ties and letting the cloak fall from around her shoulders._

_“But—”_

_“Silence.” The wolf drags its tongue along the woman’s face, leaving a long, wet stripe along her cheek. “You are mine, now. And if you need further assurance, then allow me to provide it to you.”_

_Abandoning her face, the wolf bites down into the deep red fabric covering her chest. To the woman’s surprise, she somehow manages to avoid biting through her flesh, and as her heaving chest is exposed to the cool evening air—_

* * *

“Why are you trying to rip your dress?” Ingrid asks with a worried expression. “It’s one of my favorites of yours. You should keep it nice!”

Dorothea sighs, exasperated, and releases her grip on the gap between the buttons that fastens the scarlet fabric in her hands. Ingrid scrambles off of her entirely, and slipping off of their bed, she falls into a seated position on the floor. “Well, _someone_ has to, Ingrid. Or did you forget what we talked about…? What we’re trying to do tonight?” 

It’s lucky Ingrid’s so cute, her head cocked to the side like it is, her eyes wide and hurt, because Dorothea can’t imagine being this patient with any other partner. Despite the frustration that laces Dorothea’s voice, Ingrid’s tail beats against the floor of their bedroom with a steady rhythm that betrays her simple joy at being with Dorothea.

“What we talked about…” Ingrid mutters to herself as her ears fall back against her head. Dorothea waits with a patient smile, and in a moment, her girlfriend perks back up. The speed of her tail thumping the floor increases, and her ears swivel forwards once again.

“We talked about making bacon, right? I like the idea of making bacon.”

“I—” Dorothea can’t find the words. Ingrid’s appetite is notorious— _legendary_ , even—among their friends, and that’s when she’s _human._ About once a month, though, when Dorothea’s girlfriend is swapped out for a giant fluffy dog, that appetite only gets harder to curtail. It’s happened before, it’s happened again, and Dorothea’s familiar enough with the struggle of

keeping her occasionally canine companion fed to know that once food has been brought up, there’s no hope of shifting Ingrid’s attention elsewhere. As if to prove her point, Ingrid stares at her with wide, unblinking, hope-filled eyes. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth; she pants expectantly.

And with that image before her, Dorothea pulls herself back up into a seated position. She fluffs up her chestnut curls from where they’d been flattened beneath her as she’d lain beneath her girlfriend, and leaning forwards, she sets her elbows on her knees and smiles fondly at Ingrid.

“Yes, I suppose we can get some bacon on the stove. I think there’s also some leftover pizza from last night, if you’d like that too.” She stands up and adjusts the way her nightgown fits around her body. Ingrid stands up beside her, her tail wagging emphatically, and she nudges at Dorothea’s back with her large wet nose in an attempt to get her in the kitchen at a werewolf-appropriate speed.

“Let’s go, let’s go! Faster!”

“Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch?” Dorothea suggests as she strides across to the fridge and opens it wide. “I’m making bacon, so I think it should be… horror. A horror movie.”

Ingrid begins to whimper, but Dorothea just giggles in return. “Do you want the bacon or not?” she teases, and the whimpering stops right away.

* * *

Dorothea buries her hands in the thick, luscious fur of Ingrid’s tail. Her girlfriend’s canine form reminds her of something like a cross between a wolf and a Great Pyrenees, which makes her an absolutely _perfect_ cushion for lounging on. _Especially_ as the poor, hapless woman in the slasher film on the screen in front of them runs desperately from her pursuer.

True, her evening hadn’t gone exactly as planned. She’s long since swapped out her silken lingerie for a more practical set of pajama pants and one of Ingrid’s old shirts, and instead of taking her to bed as Dorothea had hoped, Ingrid’s trembling behind her with both fore-paws hiding her eyes from the gore of that night’s movie.

“You okay?” Dorothea asks, glancing over her shoulder to where Ingrid hides her face. “I know it’s not your favorite, dearest, but I thought you liked the main actor.”

“I’ll be okay if I can have the last slice of pizza,” Ingrid mutters from beneath her paws. With a little laugh, Dorothea slides the paper plate holding the aforementioned pizza towards Ingrid. The trembling behind her stills, for a moment, as Ingrid devours the food, and Dorothea reaches out with the remote to turn up the volume a little bit.

Ingrid flinches as the movie’s villain catches up to his victim, then she curls up closer against Dorothea, who resumes her gentle stroking of Ingrid’s fur.

Perhaps she and Ingrid had discussed plans for that night that hadn’t been followed through on. But it’s not as though Dorothea can blame Ingrid for having a one-track mind, especially when she considers the monthly transformation that her girlfriend has to deal with. Honestly, Dorothea admires the strength and tenacity that surely has to come with her lycanthropy, and as excited as she’d been for their evening together, her time is just as well spent just supporting Ingrid as much as possible. Tonight’s support may only consist of snuggles, bacon, and the knowledge that she’s not alone, but that’s okay with Dorothea.

Besides, there’s always _next_ month.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the inaugural Monstertober fic! I wanted to post this on Nat'l Lesbian Day, since it coincided with 'werewolf' on the prompt list I've been working from, but life will do that to ya, I guess. But either way, here's some wereboof Ingrid~♡
> 
> By the way, I've got more stuff planned for the rest of the month, and I really can't wait to start posting it! It ranges from Gen to E, and if you like monsters and wlws, definitely stick around! Maybe come say hi at [twitter,](https://twitter.com/tansybells) and have a lovely day! Thank you for reading ♡


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